There’s a certain fantasy about cross-country skiing–swishing your skis along a trail that runs between snow-dusted pine trees. Adding a hut to the mix makes the fantasy even more magical–warm food, a cold beer, and a roaring fire await. DC UL did its first trip to Maine Huts and Trails ten years ago and made it a regular trip for several years . COVID and a change with the huts management hit pause, but it was certainly time to return.
Michael and I went last year to the huts for a quick two-night trip. This year, we wanted to go back to three nights so we opted to add Stratton to the mix. We’ve been curious about that hut for a while–it’s the highest on the trail so the views were supposed to be spectacular. The catch, of course, is that the last 0.5 mile to the hut is on black trails. We reasoned that we could at least walk up (and down) that final stretch.
Most of the crew assembled in Boston, bright and early, and we loaded ourselves into the Suburban we rented for the trip. We met up with Chuck and Cynthia at the Sugarloaf Outdoor Center to pick up skis and do some final organizing of packs. And with that, we were off to the trailhead.
Today’s Adventure is (Fill in the Blank Space)
Victoria had never been on skis so Dmitri and Michael used the time at the trailhead to give a quick primer. The first stretch was certainly magical as we cruised (or so we felt) along the flat trail and the initial ascent. Over time, it became icier and harder to climb up the steeper pitches so I found myself popping my skis on and off more than I thought I would. Michael tested out the new skins for his skis and flew ahead. Someone had also gone through before us and tore up the trail with postholing–they missed the memo on walking on the side of trail.
We all made our way along as a group, looking for the Stratton Hut to come into view. I think, in retrospect, had the trail been less icy, it would have been manageable to go up that final bit in skis–but with the trail being so hardpacked with ice, it was a bit of struggle to make it up there. Finally, the hut came into view. We piled in and got ready for dinner – vegetarian chili. Also at the hut were two women from Canada who planned on doing the same route as us.
It had been a long day with travel and skiing. With full bellies, we all slowly made our way to bed.
Ready for It?
I wasn’t even going to attempt the descent out of the hut, but I thought I could at least ski to the intersection. Brian and Paul were ahead–they went over the slight rise in the trail and I followed. Brian went down first, then Paul, then me. The rest of the group arrived only to find our bodies scattered along the trail just a few yards from the hut.
Eventually, we arrived at the intersection. Dmitri expertly handled the descent while the rest of us walked down the steepest bit. Michael, who darted out earlier, found the descent easy on his backcountry set-up–we all speculated that he was probably at the next hut already.
I walked down the blue a bit, nervous about a sharp turn that I saw, but then came to a nice straight downhill stretch. Time to do this. I put on my skis, summoned my courage, and pushed off–letting out a woop (scream?) as I hurtled down the trail and eventually came to a stop. Others followed suit. Cynthia, who heard the screaming ahead of her, decided that perhaps discretion was the better part of valor.
We went on that way for most of the day, but there were a few descents that had tricky turns (with rocks!) that prompted some of us to walk down them. Then, it was back up the trail to Poplar. Again, I found myself struggling to get up some of the icier uphill sections–I’d get about halfway and then have a good fall. I opted to walk up one steep bit, but the trail eventually eased out. Poplar was a welcome sight. We feasted on chicken, eggplant, and pasta, and marveled at their three-tier cannoli cake. There’s a dessert war going on with the huts and we were certainly the beneficiaries of it that night..
Are We Out of the Woods Yet?
Over breakfast the next morning, Michael and I reassured the group that today would be easier as we’d be on greens most of the way, aside from the climb to and descent from the halfway yurt. We gorged on green shakshuka for breakfast (yay again for Poplar and food) and then started to filter out.
Last year, the trails out of Poplar were a sheet of ice. This year, it was icy but not as bad–or so I initially thought. While the descents were mild out of Poplar, you were still picking up more speed than you probably have wanted and controlled stopping was still questionable. The postholer also made an appearance again with deep footsteps. (Seriously, how did the person even think this was okay?) The ascents were–at least for me–more even challenging today as the trail had a slight concave in addition to the layer of ice on top. In short, there was a bit of spiciness on the trail.
That spiciness slowly chipped away at us that morning. I eventually gave up on trying to go uphill with my skis and started popping them off for every incline– my bruises were starting to get bruises. Brian battled one climb ferociously and sounded a barbaric yawp about his feelings on ice as Cynthia and Victoria cheered him in their respective ways. Rumors flew down the trail of even Chuck succumbing to ice rage and flinging his skis to the ground (or into the woods). Only Dmitri remained impervious to the ice, darting on and off the trail.
The groomer came through twice that morning, breaking up the layer of ice on top and making it a bit more manageable. The halfway yurt was a welcome sight. Paul encountered Michael as he was heading out, and then the rest of our group slowly trickled in. We inhaled our sandwiches and watched a brief (squall?) flurry of snow fall outside. We made it.
Time to Shake It Off
You can’t stay in the yurt forever, unfortunately. Paul, Brian, and I headed out. The brief spell of snow, plus the groomer’s work and the absence of the postholer’s work, made for that initial descent to be a lovely one before it took a steeper tack down the mountain. Paul, Brian, and I apparently all wiped out in more or less the same spot.
Now back on greens, the trail regained some of its magic. Just enough snow had fallen to help with the climbs. Compared to the first part of the day, I found it to be a far more relaxing stretch and Flagstaff hut moved into view. Beer and butternut squash curry awaited us–our group was so hungry that several were scraping the bottom of the rice pot to get every last morsel.
A Trip Beyond Our Wildest Dreams
And with that, our trip was done. We skied out two miles to the trailhead and met our shuttle driver who whisked us back to the starting point. Dmitri and Victoria had flights back that evening, while Michael, Brian, Paul, and I went to a Hildenbrand-approved brewery (Trillium) in Boston.
The conditions were challenging, but looking back, there often can be challenges–especially when you’re looking at real winter conditions. My first year had below-zero temperatures that necessitated every bit of skin be covered. Last year, there was an odd weather pattern where the temperatures warmed up during the day to soften the trail but then dropped overnight to freezing–it was like an ice skating rink for the first hours of the day. We had great temperatures this year but the trails were packed down and had a lot of ice.
All of that is to say that it’s hard to guarantee perfection in Maine in the winter, but it’s easy to make sure you have a group of people who can roll with the conditions and have fun while doing it. Everyone on this trip should be applauding themselves for the accomplishment–we skied 20 miles, cleared our plates at every hut, and absolutely no one snored at night.
Photo credit: Dmitri, Michael, Cynthia
DC UL Backpacking 
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